Sleep it Off
by Kioko Mitsu
Summary: Artificial love. Ken is living literally in a dream world, but is there something else that's just as good? Daisuke thinks so! (Shounen ai)


Disclaimer: What? You think I own this!? Well, I think you're **wrong.** No Kensuke/Daiken writer alive would have ever let that Digimon epilogue happen. Ever! And as always, this fic isn't for profit or any personal gain. It's for…my pleasure? Your pleasure? Well, hopefully for your pleasure. But mainly for mine, because I like writing, and I like improving. So, yeah. I hope you like it, because I certainly do…

Warnings: Shounen ai, drug abuse, language, angst, semi AU in the sense that the Digimon are mysteriously absent, and…well, watch out for our own gossiping, preppy inventions, Maki and Akisa! They'll make your heads spin! …Not really. But they are original characters that appear very briefly. So I hope that doesn't bother you.

Notes: Takes place when Ken and Dai are 16, I suppose. And again, no Digimon allowed! …well, they are, they just don't make any appearances. So if you like the Digimon, you're going to be disappointed. Because I don't. There's just something **so** much more appealing about a cute guy, rather than a cute…blue thing. Weird.

So lonely. So afraid. So angry. So…

What was **wrong** with him?

He didn't know what to do. He didn't feel like eating at dinner, and when Mama had questioned him, he'd claimed illness.

Mama suggested a nap.

Remembering the sleeping pills in the cabinet, he thought he'd never heard such a grand idea.

Downing a few – or maybe more than a few, he wasn't in the mood to be picky and count – with some water, he rested in bed and didn't awaken for a long, long time.

---

"Maki!" Akisa shifted her heavy schoolbooks in her arms, transferring them to rest thickly on the swell of her chest, secure.  The relocation was executed so that a small feminine hand could be freed, fast with the intention of nudging her companion's arm. 

"There's Ken," she said, her pink lips blossoming into a smile full of electric excitement.

Maki turned her head, ebony braids sweeping across her frail shoulders. "What? Where?"

"Over there," Akisa said, pointing a slim finger to direct her friend's sloe eyes to the lithe, dark-haired form skulking in the hallway nearby. Maki's eyes flared for a moment, a memory stirred, and she grasped her friend's arm, pale hands pressing finger marks into the pretty skin.

"Let's go this way," Maki murmured, careful to keep her voice lowered from the ears of the illustrious Ichijouji Ken, and redirected Akisa into the nearest classroom.

"Why? I thought you liked him…"

Maki shook her head; the twin braids rustling her clothing. "No," she said, firmly. She pursed her lips together and managed to look informed. "That guy's creepy."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Akisa tilted her head. Fine blonde hair cascaded across the chiseled features of her face as her eyebrows drew together to accentuate her confusion and misunderstanding.

"I heard he didn't leave his house for two weeks," Maki said seriously. Akisa blinked.

"How's that creepy? I heard he was sick."

Maki licked her lips, smearing her pink lipgloss but not caring. "And I heard he wasn't. Wanna hear what **I** heard about it?"

Akisa smiled at the chance for gossip. She was, after all, a typical teenage girl. "Always."

Maki leaned in and spoke into her friend's ear softly.

"Well…"

She whispered something quickly. Akisa pulled back, Nordic eyes bright and wide.

"No way," she gasped, covering her pert mouth with two perfectly manicured and immaculate hands.

"Way," Maki said, and nodded sagely.

---

The whispers floated down the hall, following him restlessly, tangling and tripping in his hair and falling unto his ears. They tried to be discreet, they tried to be smooth, and they tried not to let him know they knew.

He knew they knew. He always knew.

Ichijouji Ken hung his head and numbly ignored the sensation of soft blue hair sliding over his ears and along his cheeks. He clutched the strap of his bag with a white-knuckled grip, his thin and dry lips pursed together tightly. His eyes glittered, moist with tears, and the redness in his eyes aroused suspicion to the people close enough to catch glimpse.  The people nearby began to speculate.

Had he been crying? Had Ichijouji, the cold, calculating genius been **crying**? 

He promptly decided that his fellow students were misinformed and jumping to conclusions. He had not been crying. Not recently. It was a trick of the light, surely.

Surely.

He un-shouldered his bag when he reached his class, sliding into his predetermined desk and closing his eyes while he counted the seconds ticking by until the teacher came in.

"Good morning," she said. The class echoed her with varying degrees of sincerity and enthusiasm. Ken did not dignify a response. The lesson began, and he drifted slowly away…. His thoughts blew around, unattached.

The seconds ticked on.

"Seventy-two," he whispered into the crook of his arm when he put his head down. The rest of the class didn't care.

If Ichijouji was tired, he was **tired**, and he was not bothered. It was like an unwritten law.

"Seventy-five…"

No one bothered to listen close enough to hear soft sobs beneath his mumbles.

---

Daisuke kicked the stone along slowly, tan hands clasped behind his head as he watched the little rock flip over itself madly along the road. His eyes were characteristically soft and velvet brown as he trudged his way down the path, blissfully empty and free of any worries; he was completely happy, content, and carefree, and it all reflected vividly in his hot chocolate eyes.

To the casual observer, of course.

Inside the mind of Daisuke Motomiya, of course, was really a whirlwind of thought and concerns.

And you knew that, right?

Of course.

He thought of violet eyes, and how dull they were lately. Flat. Cold. Clipped….

The thesauruses are in the back, if you aren't satisfied yet.

If you are, then…

Daisuke thought of Ken's lately unusual behavior.

Lately being two weeks, of course.

He kicked the rock restlessly, feeling heavily the weight of his bag and wishing unhappily that it was Saturday, but didn't lament long because it was Friday and that was almost good enough, thinking and worrying about Ken and wondering where he'd been the past half-month. And all this on the way to meet with him at a park to discuss…certain pressing issues.

Yeah, right. You know he's just being nosy.

When he reached the park, he retrieved to memory the conversation he'd shared with Ken, pouncing on the soft thought of Ken's voice directing him to meet near the entrance. Once he'd realized this, however, he'd already passed the aforementioned entrance, so he backtracked for a minute, looked around, and settled to sit on the dirty ground without giving thought to the condition it would place his clothing in.

Silly boy. We all know you're supposed to sit on the benches to the left of the entrance, anyway.

However, this did not bother Daisuke. He craned his neck backwards and smiled at the feeling of warmth the sun brought down upon his richly tanned face, matching the supposed warmth of his eyes, and sighed when he saw the wind stirring trees nearby. He stayed like this until Ken reached him, sitting on the bench to the left. Daisuke couldn't help grinning, turning his head to meet the gaze of his best friend and silently admiring Ken's ability to do what he couldn't.

Ken knew. He always knew.

---

Sometimes he wished he didn't.

Ken had little idea of why he was meeting Daisuke, despite his apparent and much discussed and much-celebrated so-called genius ability. Some things, like normal, every day life, frankly stumped him.

And how Daisuke managed to appear so unaware yet retain so much information while sitting calmly on the ground next to him, watching the trees in the wind, was another thing.

He did not return the smile his friend gave him.

"So, what's up?"

Daisuke began the conversation as usual. Ken studied his hands and suddenly wondered when they'd gotten so far away.

"Why did you ask me here?" he asked softly.

Daisuke blinked at him, then grinned and rubbed the back of his head. "I dunno. I've missed you. Where've you been these past weeks?"

Ken paused, holding his breath as his heartbeat fluttered wildly. Did he suspect?

"Sick," Ken said softly.

Daisuke's eyes betrayed nothing.

…To the casual observer, of course.

And we all know that Ken is no average observer. He was caught, and he knew it. Feeling helpless, he shrunk into the bench…

The flame behind velvet eyes burned brighter, knowing he'd won.

"That's crap and we both know it, Ken."

Suddenly Daisuke's face was a lot closer and he had discovered the mysteries of the bench to the left.

Will wonders never cease?

"I know," Ken said quietly.

"So?"

"What do you want, Daisuke?"

"Where've you been these past weeks?" he pressed again. His face was inching closer, brown eyes veiled but only thinly. Ken saw straight through to the determination and concern.

Well, shit.

"At home."

"I gathered that." He loomed (despite his inferior height) closer. "And I heard you didn't leave."

Ken shrugged. "So?"

Suddenly, Daisuke's face and warmth was gone, and he had resettled on the ground by his feet. Idly, he plucked at a piece of grass and tucked it between Ken's shoelaces. Ken dutifully ignored his best friend's antics.

"Let's not play this game, Ken," Daisuke's said eventually.

"Who's playing?"

"You are," was the thoughtful murmur.

"How's that?"

"You're doing it right now…"

Ken paused, realizing he couldn't fool him. "Oh."

Daisuke looked up at him, smirking. "You've got that right."

Violet eyes blinked. He hadn't thought he'd said that out loud…

"You didn't."

"What the hell, Daisuke?"

His friend stood, laughing. "Sorry. You're funny when you don't know you're muttering."

And finally, Ken smirked, showing amusement for the first time in two weeks. "I thought you were turning into a mind reader."

"Maybe I am."

"In your dreams."

"In YOUR dreams."

"That was an awful comeback, Motomiya," Ken said, still smiling albeit forcefully, as now he worried if, perhaps, Daisuke really **did** know what was going on. But the innocent boy revealed nothing, and so Ken did likewise.

They soon parted ways, and Ken counted the seconds it took to reach his apartment again. He skipped dinner but took a glass of water to his room, locking the door and pulling a bottle of sleeping pills from his bag, which he soon deposited by the door, and shook two into his hand. He swallowed them, quickly stashed the bottle and settled the glass onto his desk, then dropped into his bed, still clothed.

He dreamed he was accepted as part of the Digidestined team, never became Kaizer and never wished Osamu's death, and, most importantly, he dreamed of chocolate eyes, warm smiles and mind readers.

In his dreams, indeed.

He awoke very late at night or very early in the morning, depending how you look at it, and slipped down two more pills with the now warm water from his desk, then slept until he couldn't sleep any longer…

---

Saturday.

Somehow, the air tasted fresher and the sun felt warmer. Daisuke looped his hands behind his head, staring at the sky as he walked to Ken's apartment for a surprise visit. Like he ever called ahead of time anyway. He grinned, listening to the money for his fare home rustle in the pockets of his cargo shorts, and basked in the feeling of wind lifting his shirt from skin and ruffling it.

Ah. Saturday. Bliss.

His steps were light and echoing as he walked quickly, but still appearing casual (or so he thought; we all know he's in a hurry), to Ken's apartment. He paused at the door, freeing a hand from behind his head to knock rapidly and noisily.

There was no answer.

"Noon on a Saturday," Daisuke mumbled to himself, pressing a finger to his chin; considering. "Would Ken be out?"

It only took him a moment to reach his answer, stooping and snatching up the spare key he was proud to know about.

"Who am I kidding? This is Ken we're talking about. Of course he's not out."

He unlocked the door.

---

He was dreaming.

He didn't know it, but he was dreaming.

He could hesitantly and softly feel warm touches on his arms, whispery breath in his ears, and an overwhelming sense of peace and content settling on his shoulders.

Ken never wanted to wake up…

---

The house looked dead. No noise, no light, no breath. Was the family not in...?

Of course not. He almost hit himself in the head. Ken's parents were out, visiting relatives, and since their son was so quiet and inner-focused and antisocial, his request to stay had been granted.

So…where was…?

Daisuke clutched the door handle, blinking.

"Ken?" he ventured softly.

No response. He bit his lip, feeling defeated. He was certain Ken would be home. He never left, and…

If he had, why hadn't he taken Daisuke with him, dammit?

Worriedly, he looked to the shoe pile by the door, noting Ken's footwear as present. So this posed a new problem.

Where the hell **was** that stupid genius? …And yes, that **is** an oxymoron, and Daisuke knows it. So sue him. He let go of the doorknob, stepping off his shoes and padding across the apartment to search for his best friend.

So of course he checked the kitchen first, thinking that maybe Ken was in that cookie – and a chocolate chip cookie, might he add, that tasted absolutely delicious – but after having no such luck at finding him in the cabinets or refrigerator, or in that OTHER cookie that was even MORE absolutely delicious, he went to Ken's room.

Okay, so actually he had a snack before he went to look for him, but that can be our little secret.

He swore, finding Ken's door locked.

"Stupid **genius**," Daisuke hissed, and jiggled the knob.

Yeah. And that did a whole lot of good.

"Shit."

Back to rummaging cabinets he went, desperately in search for a screwdriver. He found three, and sat with his back against Ken's door, pondering which one to use.

"The little one with the X?" he wondered. "Or the big one with the X? Or the little flat one… Would little be better? Probably. So the little one with the X, or the little flat one…? X…? Flat..? X…? Flat…?"

The world may never know.

---

Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming.

He was wanted, he was safe, and life was genuine. He was loved. He didn't know by whom; only that he was.

And that was enough for Ken.

---

Daisuke eventually decided on the little one with the X, and now sat tinkering with the knob on the door to Ken's room, biting his lip and swearing occasionally.

"What is he **doing** in there?" he muttered to no one. Obviously, no one answered, and Daisuke never expected anyone to. He yelped, suddenly, when he jammed the screwdriver too hard and managed to jab his hand instead.

"Ow! Shit!"

He was quickly on his feet and running for the kitchen sink, sticking his hand under a steady flow of cool water and watching it mix pink and circle away down the drain.

"What a loser I am," Daisuke murmured, his brown eyes taken in by the pink washing down the sink. "Can't even break into my own best friend's room properly."

---

Violet eyes opened hazily.

Darkness.

His drapes were drawn heavily across his window, blocking out light. Ken stood, slowly, very slowly, and wobbled slightly on his feet as he made his way to the window. He withdrew the material slightly, peering outside with soft and wide bedroom eyes.

It was perhaps three in the afternoon.

Getting over the shock of such sudden and bright light, he dropped the drapes back into place and rubbed at his disheveled and greasy hair.

What a nice rest it had been.

He smiled drowsily at the memory of it. When he dreamed, his world was perfect. Nothing was missing. There was none of the hollow, empty feeling in his stomach, and his chest was perhaps not so heavy.

Perhaps, someday, Ken would find the same feeling in real life.

But not today.

He looked around his room, considering. His stomach growled softly.

Ah, yes. Food. That may have been a good idea.

After all, he didn't want to starve himself to death. He just wanted to sleep.

Nodding to himself, he opened his door…

---

Daisuke was asleep, curled against Ken's bedroom door while clutching a bandaged and injured hand gingerly to his chest. After attempting to break in (unsuccessfully, of course), slicing his hand and bandaging it, he had opted to wait it out and made camp in front of the door.

He had only lasted an hour before blissful unconsciousness had claimed his mind.

He wasn't sure of what he dreamed. Only that he was warm, perhaps in the sunlight, and his hair was being toyed—

**_Click-CRASH!_**

"What the hell?" An uncertain pause, then, "**Daisuke**!?"

Daisuke's eyes fluttered open slowly.

"What in the…?"

His mind took in the situation slowly. He was on his back, staring up at a very bewildered, flustered, and probably very angry Ken (although he hid it well), quite possibly lying in his doorway instead of in front of the door.

"I don't remember falling asleep in the middle of your doorway, Ken…"

Ken blinked at him.

"I don't remember you falling asleep in the middle of my doorway, either, Daisuke." He nudged him with a socked foot. "What are you…doing here?" His voice shook slightly.

Was that fear? Was that anger? What…what **was** that?

"Ah. Nothin'." Daisuke sat up quickly, hoping to reclaim his pride. Or what remained of it. You can only fall down so much and so often before you shatter, anyway… "Just waitin' for you."

"…You're hurt," Ken said softly, his eyes falling on the red-stained bandage of Daisuke's hand. His eyes softened to the level of his voice and hair. "And I'll bet you didn't do that properly."

"Yeah, okay. I'm not exactly an expert at breaking into people's rooms, okay?"

Ken sent him an odd look. "…What?"

"Well, you said I didn't do it properly…"

"I was talking about the bandage."

Daisuke managed to look sheepish.

"Oh." He blushed, rubbing the back of his head. "Well. Okay."

His best friend smiled, taking Daisuke by his good hand and hauling him to his feet gently.

"What was this about breaking into my room?"

"Ah, nothin'."

"Of course."

---

Perhaps the greatest scare of his life was opening his bedroom door and Daisuke tumbling in with a cut hand, bleeding despite the bandage.

Most definitely the greatest scare of his life was discovering that he had been sleeping outside of his room for maybe hours after attempting to break in.

Ken thanked his every lucky star in heaven that he had not done so successfully.

After helping Daisuke to his unsteady feet, he guided him to the kitchen where he sat him at the table, leaving to gather medical replies, then returning.

"So," he said lightly, sitting down at the table near him.

"So," Daisuke said in return, holding his eyes with his.

A heavy, pregnant pause.

"What are you doing here?" Ken asked and gently took Daisuke's hand, gingerly undoing the bandage and raising a slender eyebrow at the mess underneath.

"Scratch that," he murmured. "How'd you do this?"

"Uhh." His wine-haired friend blushed, but did not break the sacred eye contact between the two. "Screwdriver."

Ken's eyebrow elevated further. "Screwdriver?" he inquired, his voice strung with disbelief. He wiped at the cut on Daisuke's hand with almost maternal care, feeling happily drowsy and at ease. Perhaps sleeping and dreaming was overrated. "How did you manage that?"

"Well," Daisuke began, but was soon interrupted.

"Scratch that again."

"Huh?"

Ken offered him a smirk, pulling out a tube of antibiotic cream and applying it softly to the wound. "I forgot. You're Daisuke. You could manage anything."

"Anything negative, anyway," he muttered, looking away.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Oh," softly.

There was a warm silence while Ken gently wound a bandage around Daisuke's hand.

"You can do positive things, too, Dai," he murmured, releasing his hand and standing. He walked gracefully to replace the medical supplies, and was surprised when he heard his friend's voice behind him.

"You think so?"

Softly, hopefully.

"Of course." There was a smile in Ken's voice.

"Well…" Daisuke was beside him then, watching as he put the wipes and cream and bandages away. "You can do positive stuff, too, Ken! Even better than me!" He sounded so sure of himself that even Ken had to stop and think.

Could he? Really?

Daisuke sounded so convinced.

Maybe he could.

"…Thank you, Dai," he said, not quite smiling, but close enough that it eased Daisuke's worry.

Just a little bit, anyway.

"So where have you **been**, man? I've been waiting outside your door since forever!"

"I've been…sleeping," Ken, his eyes shifting around to any place but Daisuke, said shyly.

"…Sleeping?" Daisuke asked, sounding…angry? Confused? Hurt?

What was that unfamiliar emotion in his voice?

"Sleeping," Ken confirmed softly.

But of course Daisuke would have none of that.

Ken's chin was taken hold of, firm but gentle, gripped within a tan hand, while intense chocolate eyes bore into his.

"…I thought we went over this already," Daisuke grit out slowly.

---

Daisuke had never been so angry before in his **life**. Ken, his stupid, genius, perfect, screw up and oxymoron of a best friend (and yes, he's still aware of how contradictory he's being) was lying to him. Flat-out **lying** to him!

Bastard!

While Ken dipped his head and tried to avoid him, Daisuke reached out and simply took his chin between his fingers, moving his head to forcefully become level with his.

"I thought we went over this already."

Ken's eyes were never so violet as were just then, flying open with surprise.

"Excuse me?"

"You know what I said, Ken," Daisuke said, sounding exasperated and a definitely a little sad. "I told you before. Let's not play this game."

The paler boy sagged. "…It isn't a game to me, Daisuke."

"Then what is it? I'm tired of this, man!"

"It's…"  
Daisuke watched, mesmerized, as pale wetness gathered underneath the thick lashes on Ken's face.

"I don't know," Ken whispered finally. The tears flowed. "But it's not a game."

Daisuke released his face gently at the sight of tears.

"You…You…"

A pause while he clenched and unclenched his fist. Finally, he sighed and looked away. "I don't know. I just don't know. Why won't you tell me what's wrong, Ken?"

"It's…nothing."

Clench. Unclench. Clench. He could not calm down, not when Ken was involved… He lowered his eyes. "You're…such a **moron**, Ken!" His hands shook slightly. "You can't even see when someone's trying to help you!" And he turned away, making for the door, but…

"I would tell you if you could help."

He snapped.

"Just…stop. I don't want to play this anymore. Forget it, Ichijouji."

He slammed the door behind him.

--

Daisuke left him alone in the apartment, slamming the door to which Ken could answer only a muffled sob as he sank to his knees and cursed his existence.

Daisuke had **left**.

Do you know how big that is?                                                           

**Big.**

The emptiness swelled and he was overwhelmed by an intense desire to sleep. Everything else forgotten, he fled heavily to the sanctuary and stagnant darkness of his room. Swallowed more pills with old warm water; he threw himself face down onto his bed.  He shut his eyes tightly, but the tears bled through and stained his pillow.

He willed for sleep to come.

Eventually, it did, but he was not satisfied.

The emptiness ached even within his dreams, and would not be filled by artificial touches. It would not be banished.

And it never, ever could.

…But we, of course, know better.

---

Daisuke stretched out across the couch, arms flung over the back while he sulked. Childishly and indecently.

Classic, typical Daisuke.

"Damn Ken," he muttered.

He tilted his head back, frowning.

"Damn him, damn him, damn him, damn him,** damn him**."

He paused for a moment, considering, then took a deep breath.

"**Damn**—"

"Daisuke!" Jun poked into the room, still-damp hair wrapped in a towel. "Shut up, would you? Whatever it is, I'm sure you're overreacting – again, by the way – so get over it!" 

Huffing, she slammed the door to her room and disappeared. The towel from her hair fell wetly to the ground in front of her door.

Slowly, realization dawned, and Daisuke blinked.

"Damn **me**," he said, sounding slightly and distantly astonished, and quickly reached for the phone.

---

The phone was ringing.

Ken didn't care. He wanted to sleep. As it was, he was floating somewhere warm and soft and in between, curled on his side with a blanket tucked securely around his frame. 

He could hear the answering machine click on in the other room, and held his breath when Daisuke's muted voice filtered through the static-y background noise.

"Hey, Ken."

There was a pause during which Ken clutched at his blankets with twin white-knuckled grips. _I will not. I will not answer it. I will not tell him. I will not…_

"I wanted to let you know…"

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tears gather beneath his eyelids and cluster against soot-colored canopy eyelashes.

_Will not, will not, will not, will not…_

"I'm sorry I'm such an ass…"

_Oh, for the love of…!_

He rolled over quickly, un-snagging his hand from the tangle of blanket and snatching the phone up against his ear.

"It's okay," he said quickly, breathlessly.

"Ken..?" Daisuke's voice was uncharacteristically timid. Considerate. Soft. "…Hi."

…Wait. Daisuke? Soft? Scratch that.

Just considerate.

"Hi." The word was barely whispered into the phone.  Ken stared at the wall with large bedroom eyes, which were becoming increasingly typical for him.

"Hi, Ken."

"You already said that…" A soft reminder.

"Oh. Well. Uh…"

"You were calling me to apologize for being such an ass."

"Oh, yeah." Sheepishly. "Sorry."

"For?" He pressed.

"Being an ass."

Ken hid a smile.

"It's okay."

There was another pause.

"So, uh…" 

He could hear Daisuke shuffling around. He held the phone tightly, pressing his fingers against the hard plastic. Suddenly the emptiness wasn't so lonely and overwhelming anymore…

"Is there anything else you wanted to say, Dai?"

_Please no please no. It's going away, I'm feeling better, don't hang up, Daisuke, say something nice so I can't be mad at you for not being here, say anything, just don't hang up, tell me…tell me that you…_

"I guess…not." The hesitation was heavy in his voice. "I'll see you around, okay?"

_No, don't, don't, don't, don'tdon'tdon'tdon'tdont…_

"Okay."

The plastic cracked under his grip.

" 'Bye," Daisuke mumbled.

**_Don't_**_!_

"Goodbye, Daisuke."

He hung up the phone, heavily, feeling like he was striking cold dirt to dig his grave as the phone struck its cradle.

He could imagine the humming noise of the dial tone in his head.

"Goodbye," he muttered into the empty air, closing his eyes as the feelings of despair came rushing back full force. He sank back, resting his head against the wall, and made an attempt to sort out his thoughts.

Sleep brought warmth and security and artificial touches, which was…artificial love?

But sometimes Daisuke was warm, and always felt secure. And sometimes they touched, and it wasn't artificial in anyway, and the touches were even warmer. But…

He was too afraid to touch the last subject.

Which was better?

Was Daisuke worth it?

Shaking, he reached for the phone…

_Maybe._

---

Daisuke had just replaced the phone in its cradle when it rang again.

"Ah, shit!"

Surprise was an understatement.

He grabbed up the phone quickly, pressing it against his ear. "Hello?" he asked, anxiously.

"…Daisuke?"

He nearly dropped the phone at the soft, melancholy tone of his best friend's voice.

"Ken! Hi!" He fell back against the side of the couch, blinking. "What's the matter, man? I just talked to you!"

"I…I know that," Ken said, stumbling uncharacteristically over the words. Daisuke sat up immediately, his attention caught.

"What's wrong?"

"I, I think I may have something to tell you…if you're interested." Ken's voice shook only very slightly as he spoke.

But no answer was needed; Daisuke had already snatched up his spare money for the train fee and was stuffing it hurriedly into the pockets of his cargo shorts.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he said, not even bothering with 'goodbye' as he slammed down the phone and made a rush for the door.

And was, of course, stopped by Jun.

What, you were seriously expecting things to go so smoothly?

"And just where are **you** going?" she asked, smiling smugly. She crossed her arms across her shirt, tilting her head to the side – which was actually rather funny, seeing as her still-wet hair was lumpy and sagging to the side, not yet in its proud spiked form.

"Out," he said, trying to push past her and to the door.

She easily held him back with one hand. "Where?"

"Ken's."

"Why?"

"None of your business!" He pushed at her shoulder. "Let me go!"

She smirked at him. "You've already been there once today. What's new?" Her eyes narrowed. "Or are you going somewhere else?"

"No, Ken's." He was growing impatient. "He just called. He has something—" he searched for an appropriate word "—something really important that I can't tell you about, okay? So let me go!"

Jun gave him a knowing smile. "Rii-iight," she said in a singsong voice. "I believe that." Sarcasm. "But really, don't blame me. Mom and dad won't let you go out again tonight anyway." She flicked his nose. "You're the baby of the family, you know."

"Jun," he gave an exasperated sigh, "what do you want?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said, pressing a finger to her chin. "Maybe – your dessert?"

"For tonight?" His eyes flew wide. "But—Mom's making chocolate pudding!"

"What do you mean, for tonight?" Her eyes flashed, and she grinned. "I meant the week."

"No!" he was outraged at the thought of losing so much precious chocolate.

She smirked. "Then I'm not covering for you."

"You're such a jerk," Daisuke mumbled. "Fine. For the week."

"And—"

"Don't push it," he warned. "I've seen you sneaking out at night."

Jun wisely thought better of her second proposition and moved out of the way. "Got'cha," she said, and patted his shoulder.

He shrugged her hand off, but was smiling. "Thanks, Jun. Catch ya later."

"Take care, freak." She winked at him as he left the house.

"No problem."

And then he was gone.

---

Ken was favoring the ever-popular 'curl' position on the arm of the couch, head leaning on his knees with his arms fastened tightly around them, when Daisuke knocked.

His parents were still not home, and he didn't fancy making him wait **too** long, so he dragged himself to his unsteady feet and to the door and reached for the door handle…

It swung open before he even touched it, and he was only inches away from velvet eyes.

They both blinked.

Daisuke held up the spare key at the silent question Ken's eyes posed.

"Oh," was the darker-haired boy's only response.

No one ever expects the old spare key routine…

There was silence for a while as they both stared at each other.

Daisuke, predictably, broke the silence first, sliding off his shoes.

"You wanted to talk?"

"…Yes." Ken moved aside, allowing Daisuke entrance, and shut the door softly behind him, backing up against it and holding his arms firmly around his middle, feeling lighter and warmer already.

He had figured the following:

Dreams were warm. They were soft. They were secure. They made him feel…well, loved.

Daisuke was warm. He didn't remember if he was soft, since it had been a while since they'd touched for very long, but he most definitely made him feel secure.

And…he'd finally breached the last part, and he was here to test that 'love' thing right now.

And Daisuke was, as always, blissfully ignorant…

"So?" the aforementioned boy prodded the conversation gently.

Ken chewed his lip, worrying it between his teeth. "You wanted to know where I've been?"

Daisuke was beside him in an instant. Constant, warm, and the best friend he'd ever had. Truly. "Dude, of course I wanna know!"

"All right." He pushed off from the door, padding on silent feet to his bedroom. Daisuke followed behind, blindly; reminding him of a puppy. He paused at the doorway, turning suddenly. Daisuke blinked and bumped shoulders, surprised.

"What're you—"

"Stay here," Ken ordered, and shut the door purposely in Daisuke's face. He heard a surprise curse from the other side. His breathing came quickly.

_I will do this. I can do this. I am going to do this._

He fished the bottle of sleeping pills from his school bag then opened the door, quickly and suddenly thrusting the bottle into Daisuke's hands. He kept his eyes down, awaiting judgment and only cringing at Daisuke's short gasp.

"Ken…" Daisuke touched his shoulder; fingertips fiery warm against the soft fabric of Ken's sweater. "How long have you been using these?"

"Two weeks." A pause. "And … four days."

"Ken," Daisuke said again, quietly, "the bottle's half empty."

"I know," he murmured, still not daring to look up.

Couldn't Daisuke be optimistic instead, and say it was half full?

"You know, there's such a thing as overdose…"

He winced away from Daisuke's touch, missing the warmth but too afraid to be that near to his reaction. "I know," he said again. "That was my original intent."

"But Ken, that means…"

Daisuke trailed off, suddenly understanding.

"I'm sorry—" Ken began.

"**No.**" Daisuke interrupted.

Tch! Typical…

Ken was surprised to find himself suddenly wrapped in Daisuke's arms, reddish hair brushing his neck while Daisuke's head rested firmly on his shoulders.

"Excuse me?" He suddenly felt very flustered, but his cheeks were warm and his heart wouldn't stop pounding, and that didn't feel so bad at all…

The arms around him tightened.

"There's no way, Ken."

He stared at the spiky mass of softness and warmth with the look of a deer caught in headlights. Frozen in place. "I…don't understand."

"Please tell me no, Ken," Daisuke whispered, brushing his hair against that pale neck. "Tell me you didn't."

He swallowed unsteadily. "I—I did."

"Why?" He was hugged.

"Because…" He closed his eyes. "Because I was tired."

"You don't need sleeping pills for that."

"I know." His lips twitched in a funny half-smile. Daisuke and his sense of humor…"I meant it on more of an emotional level, Dai."

Daisuke pulled away from him, smiling. "I know. You don't need anything for that."

"Come again?" He blinked.

Daisuke threw his arms around him again, and Ken was oddly pleased with the warm feeling in his chest.

Daisuke was most definitely worth it. No maybes about it.

"You don't need anything else, Ken, 'cause I'm here! I'm your best friend, and this is **why** I'm here!"

He tentatively placed his arms around Daisuke, feeling awkward and clumsy, but happy.

And yes, we **did** just call Ken clumsy. Surprising, I know.

Daisuke accepted it.

You should, too.

Slowly, Ken smiled. Warmly. "Okay," he said, but pulled away for a moment to consider the equally warm look of hot chocolate eyes. _Maybe…he thinks I'm worth it, too._ "But I'm still tired."

Daisuke shrugged. "Sleep it off," he advised, setting the bottle of pills on the floor of Ken's bedroom and kicking it away.

"Okay." He sat on the edge of his bed, looking nervous, and refused to look away from Daisuke, even though just a few minutes ago he couldn't look at the boy for the life of him…

And you thought that girls were fickle…

"So go to sleep," Daisuke said, blinking at him. "I don't see the problem."

"I…was tired, because I was lonely," he said, softly.

"Oh."

There was a thump when Daisuke sat beside him. "So?"

"So…" He took a small breath. "I don't want to be lonely anymore."

Daisuke flopped over backwards, onto the bed, and smirked at him. "So who says you have to?"

Instead of being surprised, Ken took it all in stride and mimicked Daisuke's actions. "No one, I suppose."

"Good," he said, sitting up. He wriggled out of his vest – and yes, he still wears it, because old habits die hard and Daisuke has no sense whatsoever of fashions actually **changing** – and caught the frightened look Ken was giving him from the corner of his eye.

He smiled, reassuring.

"You expect me to nap with my vest on?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Ken blushed and looked away. "No. I suppose not."

"What time are your parents coming back?" he asked, settling down beside him again. Absently, he pulled the covers up over them, not even stopping to consider the hidden meaning his words may have conveyed.

Ken blushed brighter, not missing a beat. "Uh—what? Why?" he spluttered.

Daisuke gave him a weird look. "I wanna know what time you're kicking me out," he said, obviously not getting it. Same old Dai.

"Not—not until tomorrow."

"Oh, okay. Anytime's fine, then?"

"You…could stay the night, if you wanted."

Daisuke smirked, twining an arm around the darker haired boy's waist and curling close.

"Whatever you say. Jun will cover for me," he murmured, suddenly feeling warm and drowsy. "G'night, Ken."

"Goodnight, Dai," Ken said softly.

He felt a soft kiss against his temple, and fell asleep.

---

Maki and Akisa walked down the hall together on a fair-weathered Monday morning, leaning their heads to the side and whispering while they followed a glowing Ken Ichijouji with their eyes.

"There he is," Akisa whispered, pressing her pink lips together disapprovingly. "I can't believe he's on drugs," she wailed.

"Know what else I heard?" Maki flipped her ever-present black braids behind her shoulders, sloe eyes sparkling with withheld information.

"No, what?"

Akisa always pounced on the chance for gossip.

Maki smirked, pulling her aside towards the lockers adorning each side of the hall, and whispered quickly into her best friend's ear, "Someone saw this boy, Motomiya Daisuke, visiting him on Saturday." Her eyes glistened with mischief.

Or maybe that was the glitter on her eyelids. Girls are into that these days, you know.

"So?" Akisa asked, blinking her wide eyes.

"So," Maki was grinning, "he came out **the next day**, and still wearing the same clothes."

"Oh!" Akisa could barely control her outburst. Her eyes fluttered to watch Ken strolling down the hall. "You don't mean…?"

Much nodding. "Yes. I mean it."

"Oh," Akisa said again, more softly. "He's certainly got **some **problems, hasn't he," she tutted, pursing her lips again. "Let's let him be."

And so they were on their way, down the hall.

---

Ken knew. He always knew.

And he **always** heard.

He kept his smile to himself, casually discarding a bottle into a trashcan as he passed.

He didn't need those anymore.

He was meeting Daisuke after school today…

---

It's DONE! *throws hands in air* Be kind, rewind! …I mean, review!


End file.
